"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Don't cast aspersions on my asparagus.
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Non-committal, generic responses were such a great tool. They had literally hundreds of uses.

Couldn't hear what someone was saying after the fourth time? Slight grin and a quiet chuckle.

Parents asking you if you definitely don't have any homework? "Meh, probably" is such a beautiful phrase.

Not willing to admit you didn't know this pop star everyone was rambling on about? A nod and a generic word in agreement and problem solved.

Not only were they extremely annoying for the other person (and Sunil was very much a hypocrite in this regard, as he'd keep on pestering people who sat on the fence to take a stance, particularly on relatively important matters such as this), but sometimes, a non-committal answer was just a reflex. Sometimes, you did have an opinion on the subject at hand, but didn't make it known. Sometimes, you didn't care that much, sometimes you couldn't be bothered to articulate your thoughts into coherent words and sometimes...

Well, sometimes, it was a bit embarrassing to admit that you were scared that the big group of people over there would react rather violently to an unwanted disturbance.

Rather then protesting Garry's decision further, he just let out another grunt that would probably be interpreted as reluctant agreement.

And so, Sunil was quietly cursing his luck when Garry decided to not press the point and made the decision for him. He couldn't really blame Garry, but damnit, he wasn't really in the mood right this second for social interaction. Give it a few minutes, maybe he would come round to the idea, but right now, he frankly didn't really want to go talk to that big group of his fellow Minnesotan high school students, one of whom may very well end up being his murderer.

And when that girl (whatserface. Sunil knew her name, it was on the tip of his tongue) pulled out her gun, Sunil's predominant feelings of fear and anxiety were mixed in with an ever so subtle hint of relief. Maybe he and Garry could just wonder off, forget this ever happened, hear their names later on in the announcements without even realising how close they were to the bearers of the names...

But no. Shit didn't end up hitting the fan. The fan was left completely clean, and so Garry, in response to the proverbial fan's cleanliness, decided to resume his original plan of walking towards the armed group, armed with the oh-so-deadly weapon of a paintball gun and flanked by his trusty partner-in-crime, a skinny Indian kid with a bunch of unopened, unloved tin cans.

And as Garry made his motives known, Sunil just stood a couple of paces behind him, arms behind his back, an insincere smile on his face, giving out brief, barely-noticeable nods of acknowledgement to all the others in the vicinity. Aside from gun girl. First impressions were often false, but boy, if someone's first impression is waving a gun about, you had to be forgiven for being slightly hesitant to trust them.
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No Such Thing as a Perfect Plan · The Felled Forest: North